


Bite Down

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Breathplay, Consensual Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, F/F, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Rough Sex, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Shut up.” Historia says. “Shut the fuck up before I make you.”“Oh?” Ymir says, eyes glinting.





	Bite Down

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes u just wanna write some self indulgent porn am i right fellas. but ill b real this fic needs some serious overhaul n editing and i am far too lazy 2 b bothered

Wires of late morning sun cut across the small apartment. Gold beams against white walls.

The window above Historia’s bed is open, blinds loosely flagging in the spring breeze, dust particles and pollen catching in the sunlight. There’s a clutter of people passing on the sidewalk below, chatting and laughing. Close enough to hear but too far to understand. Briefly, they draw Ymir’s attention to the outside world. Her eyes flicker up to the window, watching as clouds pass, before slowly dragging back down, down. Settling her gaze on the head of blonde hair between her thighs.

“I mean, _really._ ” Ymir drawls, flat on her back, all spread out and looking like a mess. “I’m going to fall asleep if you keep this up.” Her hair is stringy and sticking to the sweat on her forehead as she slides against white bed sheets. Historia kneels between her legs, tongue deep in Ymir’s cunt. Ymir squeezes her thighs a little, curls her fingers in Historia’s hair to pull her closer. “A straight boy could fuck me better at this point, and that’s a _really_ low bar, Historia.” 

She can actually see Historia getting more and more pissed off, feel her start to finger her with more force than necessary and, _oh_. That friction just feels so damn good. 

Historia lifts her head up and gives her a look that could cut glass. Ymir can’t help but be pleased at the slick of cum around her chin. “Jesus Christ, Ymir, will you just shut up already?” Historia grits, pinching Ymir’s inner thigh. Ymir jolts but otherwise does not, in fact, shut up. Instead she starts petting Historia’s head, murmuring _come on baby, back to it._ Historia shoots her one last warning glare before sliding back down. 

Somewhere outside the window a car honks.

Ymir sighs; fists her hands in Historia’s hair, pulling, preening, gold strands rough and tangled. She huffs and tugs and whines and wiggles, trying to get a rise out of the other girl but Historia stays steadfast and immune to Ymir’s usual tricks. It’s annoying, but Ymir knows a challenge when she sees one. Knows she needs to kick it up a notch if she wants a reaction this time around.

Ymir chews her lip idly, tilts her head back and digs her heels between Historia’s shoulder blades. For a moment, she can’t to decide if pushing Historia too far is really worth the reaction she’s aiming for. If she really wants to risk getting kicked out of Historia’s apartment just to make the other girl angry. But. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she supposes. 

Ymir closes her eyes sighs a little when Historia’s tongue flicks her clit. Wonders aloud, “What would mommy and daddy say if they knew their good little Catholic girl spent her Sunday mornings eating out some nasty dyke?” 

Historia pauses. Ymir grins. Bingo.

She shakes Ymir’s leg off and raises her head, staring at Ymir like she wants to punch her. The very thought summons something dangerous in Ymir. Positively wicked. It burns her from the inside out.

“Shut up.” Historia says. “Shut the fuck up before I make you.”

“Oh?” Ymir says, eyes glinting. “I’m sorry—did you not like that? Did I hit a nerve?” She presses and pushes and prods, hoping Historia will bend the way she wants. It’s a delicate art, really, but Ymir thankfully has plenty of practice. 

Historia scowls. Full-on, the sharp twist of her features like a knife in the gut. “You’re really going to do this?” She bites. “Really, Ymir? You’re going to act like a fool just to get a rise out of me?”

“Maybe.” Ymir drawls, playfully curling a piece of her greasy hair around a finger. Coquettish. “Is it working?”

Historia’s face goes red and finally, _finally,_ she snaps. “Fine!” She barks. “Fine. You win. Have it your way Ymir.” She pushes herself off the bed and marches away; tries to stomp on the ground but instead the bare soles of her feet just end up slapping against the wood flooring. Ymir watches her go, still fiddling with her hair, pussy starting to feel cold. 

She slips a hand down and starts to lazily rub at her clit, trying to keep her buzz going while she waits. Historia’s ass sways as she slams the door of her closet open with such force the shelves rattle. Ymir doesn’t bother to taunt her more, just admires the view as she slips a finger into her vagina and starts to masturbate. 

Historia takes a box down and sets it on the floor, pulling out a harness and deciding on which dildo to use. Ymir bites her lip, working herself open, watching Historia slip the harness up to her hips and hastily tighten the straps that loop under each asscheek. She closes her eyes and starts to work her cunt harder. Imagines Historia flipping her over and plowing her until she cries, but then her fantasy jumps to Historia riding her to bending Historia over a table to eating Historia out in the shower to Historia, Historia, _Historia._ Ymir pants, getting lost in her thoughts and working herself so quickly she wonders if she’ll cum before they even start. 

The bed dips and Ymir cracks open her eyes. Historia kneels in front of her, looking annoyed. A bright yellow dildo bobs at her hips and Ymir swallows. That’s certainly the biggest strap-on they have. 

She crawls over and pushes Ymir’s legs open, rubbing the tip of the cock and Ymir’s entrance, slicking the head. Historia’s hand is tight around the base, directing it but not yet pressing in. She watches with almost clinical interest, tilting her head to the side, goldenrod hair tumbling past her shoulder. Then her eyes slide up and stare at Ymir, dead and dangerous. Threatening. Ymir swallows. She tries to crack a smirk but she knows it comes out all odd around the edges. 

“Are you ready?” Historia asks.

“Ye— _s—_ ” She tries to say but the word gets hissed halfway through when Historia grabs her fake cock and unceremoniously shoves it into Ymir’s cunt. Ymir tenses, jaw clenches, throws her head back as a surprised groan is pushed out by the tip of the cock. There’s no lube on the silicone and Ymir is wet, but not wet enough for all eight inches to be shoved into her without any preparation. It burns but so, so good; tip of the cock pressed snuggly against her cervix, filling her up. She squirts a little when Historia starts to slowly pull out, inch by inch, coating the thick cock in her cum to lubricate it. 

It’s a lot all at once.

Ymir feels flayed and raw; open and sensitive and aching for more. She clenches down a little and the rub of the cock stings and stretches, teasing her apart. Her opening is taut around Historia’s girth. Her cunt burns. 

It’s… Yeah. It’s good. It’s a lot. But Ymir still wants more, wants to be overwhelmed, wants to feel so sore and worked open until it’s too much, too much. Wants Historia to take her and beat her and hold her and love her. Wants to feel so much until she can’t feel anything at all. 

Ymir clenches her jaw as Historia pushes back in. Sensitive. She forces herself to relax; leans back on Historia’s rumpled bed sheets and with all the haughtiness she can muster, says, “You can do more than that, can’t you?”

The smooth muscles of Historia’s jaw tighten. Her nails dig into the tight muscle where they grip Ymir’s thighs and the bite just spurs Ymir further.

“Please.” Ymir challenges. “I thought you were going to be serious now.”

“I told you,” Historia says, “to shut the fuck up.” She hikes Ymir’s legs onto her shoulders and the cock slides in deeper. Sudden and intense. Ymir let’s out an oof, and then Historia is wrapping her hands around Ymir’s neck. Her thumbs press into the curve of Ymir’s throat, right on her windpipe, and the rest of Ymir’s voice comes out a wheeze. 

Historia sets a brutal pace, hips snapping so hard there’s a wet squelching sound where Ymir’s pussy is gripping the silicone cock. She’s nearly bent in half, sweating and literally breathless as Historia’s grip tightens. It’s a lot. It’s so sudden and violent that Ymir absolutely _throbs_ , excited and surprised and just the right amount of scared.

Just when it becomes too much, Historia eases her hold and Ymir inhales a sharp breath. Her hands untangle from where they grip the bedsheets and move to Historia’s back but she shrugs them off. 

“Don’t touch me unless I tell you to.” Is all she says before tightening around Ymir’s neck again, choking her with such brutality that the blood hammers in Ymir’s ears. Her hands reach back to the crumpled sheets, absolutely blissed out. Her face is red; she can barely breathe as Historia fucks her, hard and fast. The bed frame is shaking, slamming against the wall, _bang bang bang,_ and Ymir distantly wonders if the plaster will crack.

Historia pulls the strap-on out of Ymir’s cunt, letting go of her neck to push her legs off her shoulders. “Turn around.” She says and Ymir gasps another heaving, frantic breath. 

When Ymir is too slow to act Historia pushes her, _hard_. Ymir falls onto her stomach with a grunt, tits pressed uncomfortably into the mattress with her ass in the air. When she goes to prop herself up onto her elbows, Historia pushes her again, forcing her back down and into submission. Ymir’s face presses into the covers and a shiver moves down her spine, body electric like a live wire.

Historia doesn’t miss a beat, slamming the silicone cock back into Ymir so quickly it makes a squelching noise. Ymir chokes out a surprised moan, throat rough from the abuse, and feels the sharp slope of Historia’s hip bones pressing against her ass. She pulls out and fucks back in with a slow roll of her hips, reaching every corner of Ymir’s cunt. Filling her up. 

A low moan eases out of Ymir, smooth like honey. Two of Historia’s fingers slide up along Ymir’s jawline and slip into her mouth, shushing her. She scissors the digits, playing with Ymir’s tongue, coating them with saliva. She fucks her fingers in and out, synching with the shallow pounding of her hips, tracing the ridges of Ymir’s teeth before plunging her fingers in so deep Ymir gags. 

She pulls her fingers out, dragging them, sticky with saliva, along the side of Ymir’s face before threading them in her hair. Historia pulls once, hard, and Ymir feels her head yank back with the motion. Tears prickle her eyes but she won’t be beaten that easily. She grins wildly and barks out: “Is that all you got?” 

“You,” Historia hisses, pulling Ymir’s hair again, “are insufferable.” 

She leans down, draping her small frame over Ymir’s back. Her teeth scrape along Ymir’s nape before biting down right over her jugular and Ymir’s jerks, a high, needy whine slipping through her clenched jaw. Her body wants to convulse from the onslaught of sensations but Historia keeps her in place, throat exposed, back arched. 

“I’m gonna fuck that disobedience right out of you.” Historia threatens, her free hand curls around the peak of Ymir’s hip. Possessive. Dangerous. 

Ymir feels desperate; her thoughts can’t seem to settle on _I’d like to see you try or yes, please,_ so instead she tries to wiggle her ass to get the strap-on deeper inside of her, eager to cum. Historia’s nails bite crescents into Ymir’s skin: a warning. She pulls Ymir’s hair once more, and snaps her hip again and again and again. An unforgiving pace that has Ymir’s eyes rolling to the back of her head, vision spotting. Her nails scrape against the bedsheets, knees threatening to buckle, and she reaches down between her legs to rub at her cunt. She feels exposed like an open nerve. Too sensitive, too full, _god please, yes; fuck me like you mean it, fuck me like you own me._

Her fingers glide through the wetness, dodging any direct contact with her swollen clit because it’s just _too damn much_. Instead they find their way to the fake cock as it pumps in and out of her cunt, scissoring her fingers to feel the glide of the strap and the stickiness of the lube and her own cum. Historia let’s go of her hair and claws her nails down Ymir’s back. She bites at the junction of Ymir’s shoulder, so hard that Ymir can feel the skin break under her teeth, and that’s it. That’s all it takes. 

Ymir’s orgasm hits her so hard she feels dizzy. Her eyes flutter and her cunt grips the silicone cock so tightly that Historia’s pace falters its even tempo. Ymir’s fingers finally make their way to her clit, working herself through the pleasure. Her legs feel like they’re going a little numb as she feels shivers jolt all the way down to her curled toes. 

She’s panting, red-faced and sweaty and tingling with love but Historia keeps fucking her through her orgasm and still after, abusing Ymir’s oversensitive cunt. She feels hot and exposed and tingling like whiplash, listening to the sticky, wet sounds of where her raw cunt is still stretched, puffy and red, around Historia’s cock. Still, she doesn’t tell Historia to stop; just bites a pillow and flexes her toes at the overwhelming sensations.

Eventually Historia eases the strap-on out and Ymir falls flat against the bed. She can hear the clinking of the belts being unfastened. There’s a tap on her shoulder. 

“Roll over.” Historia says, her voice sounding softer this time, less sharp around the edges. Ymir obeys, exhausted and idly wondering how her body can hold this much feeling, this much _love_ , and not simply burst.

Historia slowly crawls up her body, speckling kisses along the way. She’s much gentler now, almost shy in her ministrations, and Ymir’s heart does an odd little twist. “I love you.” Ymir says, dopey and lazy and so simple and true. Her eyes are barely open, just squinting, but she can see Historia smile. She pulls herself up and gently rests against Ymir’s chest for just a moment, kissing her slowly on the lips. Ymir thinks her heart is beating to something that sounds like _weak, weak, weak_ or maybe _warm, warm, warm,_ and she curls a hand over Historia’s nape. 

Historia sits up, inches a little higher until she’s straddling Ymir’s ribs and Ymir says, “I love your tits too,” reaching up to give one a squeeze.

Historia scoffs. “Shut up.” She says, lightly, and then crawls until her cunt is hovering over Ymir’s face, knees boxing in either side of Ymir’s head. “Just tap on my leg if you need some air, okay?” 

Ymir nods and licks her lips, suddenly feeling much more awake. She can smell the arousal radiating from Historia’s sex, see the glint of wetness, practically taste the slick, acidic tang of her cum. She lowers herself onto Ymir’s face and grinds against her open mouth, breathy moans falling past her pretty pink lips. She looks so damn gorgeous like this; skin flushed, hair slipping from its tie, bottom lip looking all plump and pouty from her chewing on it. Ymir’s body aches from the rough abuse but her heart feels too big, too full, too much love for this golden girl.

Eventually Ymir has to tap Historia once to let up when it gets to the point that she really can’t breathe, and spends a few seconds (very erotically) pulling some hair out of her teeth. Historia blushes and Ymir grins because it’s so silly and normal and perfect all at once, almost as if Historia didn’t just spend the last hour fucking Ymir into an incoherent mess. Ymir’s hand glides up to spread open Historia’s labia before diving back in, turning her into putty in her hands. Historia comes with a high whine, biting her lip red and Ymir can feel some of the cum dripping down her face and onto the soiled bed sheets. 

And just like that, Historia collapses. She rolls over and falls beside Ymir and just lays there for a few minutes as they both catch their breaths. Ymir can see her out of the corner of her eye, chest heaving, grinning wildly at the ceiling like she’s so damned pleased with herself and Ymir thinks _I’m gonna marry her._

After a moment Historia gets up. Ymir can hear her pulling on her underwear and heading to the bathroom. The sink tap starts running and Ymir suddenly finds herself exhausted all over again. By the time Historia returns, Ymir still hasn’t found it in herself to move. 

“That was,” She says, still breathing heavily as she lays spread-out across the bed. “So hot.” The sheets stick to the sweat on her back, uncomfortable, but she’s too fucked-out to move.

“Are you sure?” Historia says, sitting down beside her with a wet cloth. She adjusts Ymir’s head so it lays in her lap. “You’re okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“A little sore.” Historia frowns. “But good.” Ymir smiles, sleazy and tired. Historia nods and drags the cloth over Ymir’s cooling body. The texture is soft, gentle, despite how over sensitive Ymir feels. Historia wipes her chest, her neck, her face, getting between the creases of Ymir’s eyes.

“God.” She says. “It looks like a beat you.” She touches the red spot on Ymir’s cheek, fingers trailing down to the dark, distinctly hand-shaped bruises curled around Ymir’s neck and up to the bite mark on the shoulder. 

“I mean, you did.” Ymir says with her eyes closed. She doesn’t even have to open them to know Historia is frowning. “That was kind of the point.” 

“Ymir…” Historia‘s voice is low, worried. “You shouldn’t joke about that.” 

Ymir cracks an eye open and gazes up at Historia. They stare at each other for a long time before Ymir shrugs, as best as she can from where she’s laying. “I liked it.” She supplies, helpfully, and shuts her eyes again. After a moment she adds: “I promise. I would have told you to stop if I didn’t, so stop worrying.” 

That seems to work since Historia’s shoulders drop on an exhale and she resumes her grooming. Her hands work their way through Ymir’s hair, gentle this time as they untangle any kinks and knots. Ymir sighs, relaxing, and the room falls into a comfortable hum of silence. 

After a few minutes, Ymir peaks up at Historia again and says, rather tentatively, “Did you?” 

Historia cocks her head. 

“Did you like it, I mean.” Ymir’s elaborates.

A small smile graces the corner of Historia’s lips; quiet, shy, barely there. “Yeah.” She says. “I did. A lot, actually.” 

Ymir grins and Historia grins right back, bright as the sun. She leans down, smoothes Ymir’s bangs away and kisses her forehead so lovingly that Ymir thinks she just might melt on the spot. She brings her hands up and squishes them to Historia’s cheeks, pulling her down so they kiss at an odd angle. They spend the rest of the night like that, curled together, kissing on the bed, as Ymir’s heart thumps to the steady beat of _love, love, love._

**Author's Note:**

> they r in love.....


End file.
